


I Prefer Abraham

by Contra_Indicated



Category: The Strain
Genre: College AU, Eichtrakian, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:55:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2344220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Contra_Indicated/pseuds/Contra_Indicated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abraham Setrakian is a college freshman.  He is studying art and business at one of the toughest schools in the state, and he just (kind of) met his roommate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Prefer Abraham

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters!

Abraham stood at the door of what he would be calling ‘home’ for the next four years. The door was a lackluster industrial beige painted hardwood with the impersonal, yet familiar, stainless steel knobs indigenous to education institutions around the world. The metal had been buffed to a dull shine by the hands of hundreds of students come before him, to this very room, this very knob. Hands that had actually wanted to be here? He thought not; not with this school’s reputation and ‘secret’ affinity for acquiring what could only be described as the world’s meanest faculty. Abraham had seen nothing, only heard the stories of graded attendance, test-only points, and more than one extreme instance in which denial of bereavement leave resulted in several unexcused absences leading to utter failure of the course for the semester and expulsion due to loss of scholarship. Can’t participate on the swim team or in drama if you’re failing, ya know. No, if one wanted to remain here, one had to be _useful_.

Abraham sighed and reached for the doorknob. Just as he made contact, the knob turned beneath his fingers and the door was whipped open to reveal a tall blond, head tilted and shoulder scrunched, holding his cell phone to his ear. His roommate.

“-yeah, Gabriel, I’m on my way, I-,” he stopped midsentence, suddenly interested in this new development come in the form of a 5 and a half foot scowl. “I gotta go, man.” He hung up without waiting for a response and dropped his phone into his bag. “Hey, man!” He spoke with enthusiasm and a smile as if they were old pals.  “I’m late. Swim practice,” he said stepping around Abraham and his suitcase. “Right side’s mine. I’ll be back around 4.”

Before Abraham could begin to form a response to the unusual greeting, Thomas was halfway down the hall, turning left into the stairwell. He turned back to the room. Abraham had hoped to arrive before his roommate; not in order to lay claim on the better side of the room (read: least stained mattress), just to maybe feel less like an interloper, like he coming late to the party, or disrupting plans made in the carefully guarded hope that just maybe, they’d luck out and get a double room with no roommate.

_Sorry_ he thought. It’s not like he actually wanted to be here. Three months ago, he was given the choice of Rabbinical school, completely paid for, or a double major in business and art on multiple shaky scholarships and his own meager savings, here at the University.

_“I guess it’s the wood shop or the Rabbi, Abe,” his uncle sneered. “But if it’s your dad’s worthless woodshop, you’re on your own.” And indeed, he was. He’d left his uncle’s home the day he’d informed him of his decision. “The woodshop, Uncle.” “Leave your car and credit cards,” he’d replied matter-of-factly. That was the end of it. Abraham left._

He shook the memory from his head and grabbed his suitcase. Once the door was closed behind him, Abraham took in his surroundings. Cream-to-almost-white painted cinderblock walls, buzzing florescent light, and one window, cracked of course, centered between two twin-sized beds.

Abraham glanced at the right side of the room. There was a black bedspread tucked tightly under the mattress and a pillow sheathed in a red – _is that satin_ – pillowcase, not a wrinkle or loose thread to be spied. The closet was already crammed full of clothes on hangers, and there were more than several shoeboxes stacked neatly on the floor beneath them.

He raised his eyebrow at the shoeboxes and thought _Who am I to judge?_ He went to his side, the left side, of the room, placed his suitcase on the bed, and began unpacking.


End file.
